Thorn
The Shepherd, Book III
A Novel by Jeffrey B. Linn
All Rights Reserved

Chapter VII

He was, as clearly as the situation allowed, conceding doom. I hesitated.

"Go!" he bellowed.

The word started me like a buck; I was at the gate before they could hoist the latch. Once within, I took the well path straight across the courtyard. I followed it past lattices of vegetables and beds of tea flowers and came to the look out stair. My legs tightening I struggled upward toward the chamber and, attaining its level, was greeted by mentor in the foyer. I attempted to discharge my duty between heaving gasps when he forestalled the errand.

"We know we are at the brink, yet we are so close." He turned to the circle of prostrate figures within, then back to me. "Return and bid them hold fast for but moments more."

'Close,' I thought, 'to what?' Yet I spun round and headed back down. When at last I made the gate, I was dripping in rivulets. There was some delay parting the doors, affording me my first opportunity to inspect the "cloth" which I still clutched in my left palm. In the torch light I saw that it was no silk, but a luminescent lock of hair. I recognized it. I had seen it wrapped around the digit of the young girl in that sterile abode of the other world. Terror washed through me like an icy rain. Doubt. Was the dragon the author of my dream? Was I his tool--in some way used to bring about our impending demise?

[ Next chapter | Previous chapter ]